Innocence
by Ina Bubb
Summary: The story of Bella being a baby, and just how she becomes impossible to see or read...


_1am._

**Charlie**

She's crying.

Again.

"Charlie…_please_ go see if Bella's ok," Renee groaned.

I get up, dodging yesterdays clothes that have been left on the floor. The cool floorboards creak knowingly beneath my feet, as I feel around for the light switch.

Click. Light floods the room, illuminating just how much of a mess our room is.

Renee pulls my pillow over her eyes and continues snoring softly, wrapped up in more than her share of the brown duvet.

Making my way carefully onto the landing, I weave my way through Bella's toys, trucks and teddies, and the occasional doll. Only Bella doesn't play with the dolls, she runs them over as a makeshift obstacle course for her trucks. Her favourite is a red truck…one day I'll buy her one just like it.

Bella's door is open slightly, as I peer inside. The bright yellow walls seem dark and misleading at night, and her the breeze causes her white curtains to sway ghoulishly.

Over the edge of her cot, I see her tear streaked face and almost immediately, a huge, toothless, gummy grin lightens her chubby face, her brown eyes scrunching up from the pushing up of her baby cheeks.

I smile, she's perfect. My baby girl. My daughter. Isabella Swann.

So innocent, so peaceful. No man could _ever_ be good enough for her.

I tuck her pink woolly blanket under her chin, and lean down to kiss her forehead. She giggles and I smile, rubbing her cheek affectionately.

"Night Bells," I say, blowing a kiss.

I make my way back down the hall, and into our room again.

"Is she ok?" Renee asks. She groggily wipes some dark brown hair off her pale face, yawning.

"Yeah," I say as I turn off the light and clamber back into bed, "She's perfect."

_10 Minutes Previously._

**Elizabeth**

The thirst is still so….there.

Even after drinking a hobo and a drunken party-goer, my head still pounds in frustration.

Forks is asleep…quiet…_vulnerable_.

Rain drips down my back, and I turn to Michael.

"Still thirsty Beth?" he says, his eyes shining red.

In the darkness I make out his tall, slim figure.

_What do you think?_ I say into his mind. That is my gift. I can read and my thoughts into the minds of others. It is not mind control…that would have caused me to have been manipulated by the Vultari many years ago. I can plant ideas into the minds of others…give them barricades against thoughts and power.

Michael smiles at me.

We have been together for at least a century. He made me the way I am. He made me a vampire.

We barely ever come to Forks…there is a treaty between some weak, peaceful vampires and some dogs…but the thirst calls. The Cullens have not been here in years.

Knowledge of them is scarce and therefore patchy and most of the information is just rumours and myth.

I myself have met Carlisle only once…when he found that girl…Rose…? Rosa…?

He seemed powerful, but he had no tolerance for Michael or me. He showed weakness.

We walk down a dark street, past several houses.

As we walk past one we heard…screaming. Yelling? No…crying.

_What is that? _I ask Michael.

"A child," He says, "And it can hear us."

"The child must be dealt with accordingly." I grin.

Before Michael can interrupt, I run toward the house, jumping. I plant my feet on the window ledge, peering in.

Toys are scattered on the floor. A crib stands near the door.

I silently jump to the crib.

The babe sees me and goes silent.

It looks…edible. And I am _so_ thirsty.

I peel back a pink blanket and lean in. Closing my eyes, I read the child's mind.

Such innocent thoughts…such sweet…innocent thoughts.

I get ready to drink.

A sudden thought hits me…any vampires nearby may see her in a vision, or feel her screams.

I take some time, building a barricade in her mind…no vampire will ever be able to see her in visions or read her but me… The fact that no vampire will ever be able to see or read her means nothing…she won't live that long anyway.

As I finish the barricade I lean in, savouring the anticipation.

I hear a groan…a click…_footsteps_.

I curse the child silently and leap out the window and down into the street.

The child has stopped crying.

"What of the child?" Michael asks.

"It is fine," I say. I do not mention the barricade in her mind.

It does not matter.

She'll never come across vampires again. I mean, the Cullens are _never_ coming back…


End file.
